


shambles

by TWS



Series: clownass germany nt saga [2]
Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Bittersweet, Brotherly Love, Crushes, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Lovers, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Hate Sex, Humor, Linked to APoS, M/M, POV Multiple, Past Relationship(s), Platonic Relationships, Post-Break Up, Resentment, Revierderby, Rivalry, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Lust, Unresolved Emotional Tension, benni is one angry person, cutesy for jeri/rob, draxler the unintentional slut, jerome is just there to ogle robert, leroy is irrelevant even as a upcoming star, marco doesn't have any self-control, mario is in a very awkward place, mats is a little shit, mats is the MOST overdramatic, maybe at least, mesut and sami want to watch some tea, mesut jerome and sami are dumbasses, provoking benni is dortmund's sport, time doesn't exist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-01-25 13:12:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18575179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TWS/pseuds/TWS
Summary: "Damn it, damn it, damn it! I hate him! Fuck him, fuck his family tree, fuck anyone vaguely connected to him! I hate him, I hate him, I hate him! Just look at that ugly, self-righteous face, look how fucking much he loves himself! I swear, I'm going to tear that confidence down, he won't want to play football again after Revierderby this season, I'll show him! You hear me? I'll show him!""Okay, Benni, you do that," Julian Draxler sighed. "Just don't get a boner yelling at him again.""THAT WASN'T TRUE!" Benedikt Höwedes, the esteemed and serene captain of Schalke, screamed at his sniggering teammate. "HE MADE THAT UP, AND YOU KNOW HE DID!"***the most heated matchday in german football approaches- but football is only the beginning of the shitshow.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> servus leute!
> 
> welcome to the first chapter, the preview so to speak for this prequel fic for another plane of shambles! this can be read standalone, so don't worry if you have no interest whatsoever in apos, but for those apos readers this goes into the marco/mats/benni conflict a little more. i also wanted to write a hömmels fic because i love that pairing so much and they don't get enough screentime in APoS.
> 
> i know i should be writing chapter 71, a huge chapter in APoS, but honestly a little thing called writers block hit me so this has helped me relieve some of it. hopefully this content should be satisfying enough for impatient readers, i doubt this will get read except from by my friends but hopefully it keeps some of yall happy! i'll get to finishing ch71 soon! 
> 
> naturally APoS pairings show up- robome isn't together yet obviously, as robert is still at dortmund in this fic. gotzeus has split up and mario is at bayern. this is presumably set just after germany have won the world cup, as marco mentions- but take that with a pinch of salt! other than these little facts, the regular reality rule applies-in that there is NO reality. i dont care if it contradicts everything ive ever written, TIME DOES NOT EXIST, PLEASE REMEMBER THAT, NONE OF IT MAKES SENSE JUST ENJOY THE STROY PLS. i play fast and loose with the rules in these fics because i want to write self-indulgent nonsense. don't take things too seriously!
> 
> i'm going to try and emulate revierderby atmosphere as well as i can in this fic, don't take the levels of hatred here for granted teams in the ruhrpott often base their entire season's success on the result of revierderby.
> 
> not only will this have revierderby. it'll have a few backstories i think. 
> 
> hope you enjoy!
> 
> (this is dedicated to alex- thanks for your help with some of this!!!)
> 
> another dedication to mariangela- my rock, bestie and general all around favourite Broski. you're the best!

_3rd September_

"Damn it, damn it, damn it! I hate him! Fuck him, fuck his family tree, fuck anyone vaguely connected to him! I hate him, I hate him, I hate him! Just look at that ugly, self-righteous face, look how fucking much he loves himself! I swear, I'm going to tear that confidence down, he won't want to play football again after Revierderby this season, I'll show him! You hear me? I'll show him!"

"Okay, Benni, you do that," Julian Draxler sighed, as he watched his friend pace up and down inside his living room, arms flailing in rage. "Just don't get a boner yelling at him again."

"THAT WASN'T TRUE!" Benedikt Höwedes, the esteemed and serene captain of Schalke, screamed at his sniggering teammate. "HE MADE THAT UP, AND YOU KNOW HE DID!"

Julian held his hands up in a gesture that was meant to be conciliatory and self-protective. "Mats had a very detailed description of your... physical reaction, that couldn't have come from _nowhere,_ so don't jump down my throat for assuming-"

"I'LL JUMP DOWN YOUR THROAT AND TEAR IT APART FROM THE INSIDE FOR BEING SUCH A DAMNED IDIOT, AND _BELIEVING_ DAS VERDAMMTES LÜDENSCHEID-NORD FOTZE!" Benni yelled, quite beside himself. "YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHAT HE'S LIKE, HE'S A SWAGGERING NARCISSIST WHO WOULD SOONER DIE BEFORE SAYING ANYTHING SERIOUS, I BET HE REALLY GOT OFF ON MAKING UP THAT FUCKING BULLSHIT, HE PROBABLY GOT THAT  _DETAILED DESCRIPTION_ FROM HIS OWN EXPERIENCES, BECAUSE HE'S A  _SLUT_ WHO'D GET A BONER FROM ANYONE LOOKING VAGUELY IN HIS DIRECTION!"

A fierce debate raged in Julian's mind. If he made the obvious comment, that Benni's ridiculously over-the-top anger was pretty much confirming that he  _had_ gotten that boner, then his captain would gut him on the spot. But if he remained silent, Benni would continue on in this vein for the rest of his life. Should he put the poor man out of his misery and  _drag_ him out of his denial-?

He was spared from making this decision by the appearance of Leroy Sané, who looked puzzled by the sight of the red-faced Benni and the conflicted Julian.  Leroy had run off to Benni's bathroom so he could use the mirror to quickly adjust his hair, and in the five minutes of his absence, apparently Julian had fucked up enough to merit  _this_ behaviour from Benni. Julian fucking up was a regular occurrence in the life of the Gelsenkirchen gang, but him doing it at such breakneck speeds was grounds for curiosity.

"What's going on? I just heard Benni yelling, what did you do, Jule-  _oh,_ " Leroy said, as Julian frantically indicated that he shouldn't ask. His curiosity evaporated on the spot.

"Oh, what?" Benni snarled at him, his eyes sparking as he rounded on the young winger. Leroy suddenly became inordinately interested in the cufflinks on his suit, as Julian silently prayed... Had Leroy held up a red flag...

"Actually I shouldn't be so nosy I apologise my esteemed captain if you were roasting Julian for saying something stupid that is entirely your right and you don't need to explain it to a nobody like me-" Leroy rambled off in one breath, looking hopeful that perhaps, just this once, they would be able to escape a Mats rant- 

"I wasn't  _just_ roasting Julian for saying something stupid," Benni said, giving Julian an evil look, as the winger-midfielder hybrid deflated. It was too late, the damage was done. "I was talking about the Honk, the ultimate Fotze, the ugly Fickfehler himself. _Hummels._ "

"Were you really well Benni that's just great I'm so glad you're working through your complex emotions hey Julian have you heard from Leon yet because we should really be getting to Jerome's party we're kind of late already I feel bad!" Leroy said brightly, still valiantly trying, even though it seemed the game was lost-

Benni scowled as Julian piped up immediately, "Leon  _just_ texted me, what are the odds? He's on his way, apparently he burnt his hair trying to straighten it and had to take another shower to recover from the trauma."

Leroy laughed, expecting it to be one of Julian's jokes, but then he saw that the winger was deadly serious. "You're not serious."

"I am  _for real,_ " Julian said slowly, using one of Leon's favourite catchphrases. "He even sent a picture."

He showed them the picture, accompanied by a message with one too many exclamation marks and many sad faces. There was a contemplative silence as the Schalke men wondered just how far Leon would go to prove he was the biggest idiot in the squad. He had a budding rivalry with Julian for the spot, but so far he had held onto his title valiantly, unlike Lüdenscheid-Nord.

"Why was he even trying to straighten his hair? Seriously, what is wrong with that guy? He's one of the stupidest people I've ever met," Leroy said, with a theatrical sigh, giving Benni a cursory glance out of the corner of his eye to see if he and Julian had escaped the storm yet. Surely Leon's idiocy would be enough to have distracted him...

Thankfully, if there was something the Schalke captain enjoyed more than insulting his Dortmund counterpart, it was insulting his own teammates. "He's done worse than _that._ I remember the time when he wanted to ring Müller- the yoghurt company, not our favourite Bayern clown- because they'd asked him to be in an advert. But he couldn't be bothered to look up their number on the internet, so he picked up one of the pots and kept phoning one number on the packaging over and over again, and he was complaining because nobody was picking up- turned out he had been calling the expiration date the whole time."

Julian and Leroy cracked up, and the three men happily started exchanging anecdotes about Leon Goretzka's many ineptitudes, both in training and in everyday life. Right in the middle of reminiscing over the time Leon had directed a free kick right at their coach's face, the doorbell rang. At the same time, Benni received a text.

_Private chat between Leon Goretzka and Benedikt Höwedes_

**Leon:** beep beep bihhh !!

 **Leon:** hello my favourite captain! !!!

 **Leon:** im outside ur house bossman open up !! ;)))

 **Leon:** can we keep the burnt hair jokes to a minimum please tho im in a tough emotional place cap :(((

"And now he's rung the doorbell and helpfully texted me at the same time to inform me it's him," Benni said, rolling his eyes heartily. "He's asked us not to make fun of him for the hair incident, so you know what we have to do, boys..."

"Oh- God- what's that  _smell?_ " Julian Draxler cried, thirty seconds later, when Benni opened the door to a disgruntled looking Leon, who had done emergency work on his hair with a pair of scissors to rid his curls of the singed ends. He had done a decent job, but his friends weren't going to tell him that. "It's smoke! Something's on fire!"

"Ah, yes," Leon said, his enthusiastic grin dying on his lips. "I thought I would be met with a reception like this."

He folded his arms as Leroy pretended to collapse dramatically, clutching his throat and choking, pulling at his hair for good measure. He was not going to react... He was the bigger person... He was going to show them how stoic and mature he was... he could endure their mockery...

Just a moment later, however, this noble resolution went out of the window as he saw Benni pull out an emergency fire extinguisher from the wall near the door, aiming it at him. He yelped, backing up and flinging his arms in front of his face, sure he was about to receive a faceful of foam, and that his evening was going to be well and truly ruined. His three teammates roared with laughter at his panic.

"Jesus, you  _are_ a sight for sore eyes," Benni said, sniggering, as Julian and Leroy wiped their eyes. "I'm not going to spray you, Goretzka, we've already wasted enough time with your bullshit, you're not going back into the shower _again_. It's time for me to be a captain and put an end to this dicking around anyway. Let's get going, I don't want to be too late, they might run out of spring rolls, because Neuer is a fat greedy bastard who eats them all." 

"That's a shout," Leroy said, in solemn agreement. His stomach joined in the approval with a loud grumble. "Spring rolls make my life better. I'm telling you, they make me score more. If Jeri hasn't ordered about five hundred, I'm going to cross him off the list as a potential future godfather for my future children."

"To have future children you need to have a future partner," Leon muttered balefully, still irritated by his teammates' mockery- though, in their defence, the piss had been there for the taking. He had fucking given it to them. "I think you're banking too much on your going rate per signficant other. You've had, what, one girlfriend since leaving Gymnasium, you're not getting a baby out of thin air."

Leroy gave him a look that was downright murderous, his good temper having frayed as quickly at the edges as Leon's hair had done. "I've got as good a chance of that as you do of getting one out of your goddamn burnt  _hair follicles_ -"

"You two-" Benni began, but their captain's plea for peace went unanswered.

"I could see what I could get out of your face instead-"

"I'd sooner blow a rhino, they smell better-"

"Get one in rut and they're almost as easy as you are-"

"BOTH OF YOU, SHUT UP!" Benni bellowed, taking a leaf out of the former captain for Schalke's book and effectively silencing the winger and the midfielder at once. "Or I really  _will_ spray you with the fire extinguisher! Get out of the house, now, we need to get going."

Julian was trying his level best not to fall apart with laughter. Leroy and Leon settled into a sullen silence, glaring at each other. They were also bent out of shape at their captain, who they knew would be yelling far more violently at Mats for the whole night. But you didn't contradict Benni at Schalke.

"Right, let's go, let's go, stop looking at me like that, you whiny bastards," Benni said impatiently, pushing at them. He looked down at the fire extinguisher thoughtfully as the grumbling youths made to lumber out through the door. "Hm... maybe I should take this thing with me?"

"Why, going to give Mats a faceful of white stuff?" Julian muttered. Leroy choked, wondering where Julian got his boundless audacity from, and Leon went a faint shade of green at the image. Benni thankfully didn't hear him, which was good, because Julian's suit had cost a  _lot_ of money.

"I'll leave it here. Though it'd be fun if I caught Reus in the crossfire," Benni said, still talking to himself. "And Neuer. His stupid Bayern face, covered in the fucking stuff- that'd be great- but Jeri would probably get pissed-"

He didn't quite understand why his teammates started howling at that moment. They decided not to enlighten him. It probably would've brought a whole new meaning to the  _intensity_ the Germans relished in describing when talking about Revierderby.

Having to settle with giving Manu dirty looks and Mats a piece of his mind in the regular way, Benni finally managed to shepherd his teammates out of the door and locked it behind him. As he unlocked his car, his thoughts wandered to  _Bayern's_ goalkeeper, who he had so dispassionately referred to just now- the man was definitely going to be there with his boyfriend. Benni liked Thomas a lot, it was impossible not to, he had a magnetic personality, but Benni still found it difficult to swallow the fact that Manu was walking around so easily with newfound success and newfound happiness. He had left Schalke on a conveyor belt of shit results and now had a Champions League under his belt. It was going to be insufferable for his sense of pride, seeing him once again, Benni just knew it...

 _Ugh, damn it all. Stop it. You show the slightest opening and Hummels will be jumping in there and tearing you apart from the inside. Stop giving a fuck about Neuer,_ Benni thought aggravatedly to himself as he and his friends got into the car.  _You've already got one asshole taking up too much of your brainpower to deal with, don't bother with another._

Was he being mean? Probably. Manu was still very civil with him, Benni was just rude to him for the sake of his own pride. Did Benni feel guilty about it? Absolutely not. 

His friends had always surreptitiously avoided mentioning the words  _pot_ and  _kettle_ whenever Benni complained about Mats and his childish behaviour, all engineered to boost his own ego. There was always a fight you could never win, and always someone you could never convince to do some fucking self-reflection.

***

It was eight in the evening when Marco Reus pulled up outside Mats Hummels' house in his Mercedes. He didn't even bother texting Mats to find out whether the man was dressed and ready to go or not- he simply got out of his car and stepped out into the mild September weather, taking the spare key Mats had given him out of his pocket with a deep, weary sigh.

"Marcinho- that you?" a voice yelled, when Marco unlocked Mats' front door and stepped into the hallway. Marco could hear music floating down the stairs from Mats' room- Helene Fischer's Atemlos durch die Nacht, a song that Marco had gotten completely sick of in the year since it had come out, yet one that Mats would probably listen to until he died.

"No, it's a burglar, I'm coming to steal your stuff!" Marco called back, closing the door behind him and kicking off his shoes. "Bist du fast fertig, Matsy? Wir müssen bald gehen!" 

There was a very telling silence.

"Mats Hummels..."

"I just have to fix up my hair, then I'll be done!"

" _Natürlich,_ " Marco sighed. "Jeri gave you two hours extra, and still you're going to turn up late-"

Mats made a noise that was supposedly meant to be sheepish. "It's not my fault, I got kind of preoccupied in the bath!" 

"Jesus Christ, Mats, do I want to know that?" Marco shouted back at him, rolling his eyes in exasperation, even though he had cracked up laughing. "Probably got _preoccupied_ by thoughts of a certain someone from Herne-West..."

"What was that?" Mats hollered. "I didn't quite catch what you said..."

"Nothing, dear, just hurry up and get ready! Für die Liebe Gottes, bist du die Grenze..."

Marco strolled out of the hallway and into the living room, grabbing the remote control off of the coffee table and switching on the TV, before flopping onto the sofa. He was going to need to get comfortable, he still had a while yet to wait...

Hannover 96 were facing off Hamburger SV in the Bundesliga, in a fiercely competitive, yet scoreless tie that was taking players up and down the pitch as though they were on a conveyor belt. Marco kept one eye on the match and one on his phone as he scrolled through social media. The rhythm of Hamburg's movements on the pitch along with the repetitive monotony of seeing the same sorts of sponsor related posts over and over again helped to ground Marco in his thoughts, as he heard Mats run around upstairs.

He had been excited for Jerome's birthday ever since he had gotten the invite. For one thing, Jerome was one of his best friends on the National Team, other than Mats. He hadn't seen the centre-back that summer, owing to the fact that, well, he had been at the World Cup for the vast majority of the holiday, and Marco hadn't. The birthday celebration was going to be the first time Marco would see a lot of his teammates in a while. 

No matter how warily Mats had been treating him since he had returned from the Cup (though he pretended he wasn't), Marco could say with relative certainty that he  _would_ be able to bear seeing his glorious teammates again. Even if they had left him behind in their pursuit for the championship he had been cruelly sidelined from at the last second, he was so happy and proud for them. They had been outstanding, and had broguht so much joy upon the country. He was delighted that he would be able to congratulate them in person, he was sure that the small seed of bitterness and regret inside of him wouldn't bloom into anything else tonight. He was excited to see  _all_ of them again...

Except for one person in particular. A person who he had parted with on terms that weren't exactly ideal. A person who was probably the last person on this miserable planet that Marco wanted to see again.

But he would burn that bridge when he got to it. Right now he was going to allow himself to be excited to see his friends again. He wasn't going to think of every downside to the situation, he wasn't going to make the night about him or his problems with someone else. There was probably going to be enough drama tonight, what with Mats being out for Benni's blood, with the two of them having apparently fought for the entire summer. He didn't need to add to Fips' rising blood pressure with another screaming match.

Fips! He was going to see his captain again! He could almost hear the right back's voice in his mind, dust dry yet containing a hint of warmth-  _ah, yes, and Reus returns, just in time to make sure my heart wasn't beating_ too  _regularly..._

The thought made him genuinely smile. If only Mats would hurry up, Marco wanted to get to the club quickly...

His phone buzzed just as Hamburg's centre-forward fell face-down in the box. He took it out of his pocket and scanned the notification, wondering if it was Jerome hurling abuse at him and Mats for having still not arrived- but instead, it was Marco's other best friend in the world, Robert Lewandowski.

_Private chat between Marco Reus and Robert Lewandowski_

**Robert:** Hey bro I'm at the airport

 **Marco:** cool cool :)

 **Marco:** get me some duty free milka you cunt

 **Robert:** Yeah I was gonna ask if you wanted the oreo one lmao

 **Marco:** inject me with that shit

 **Marco:** broooo it's sad that you can't come to jeri's party :((

 **Marco:** but have a safe flight robbi and say hi to ur matka from me!! 

 **Robert:** Yeah I know :( I guess I'm going to have to stick with admiring him from afar

 **Robert:** Thanks broski I'll get you ptasie mleczko

 **Marco:** T H A T ' S W H A T I L I K E T O H E A R :)))))

 **Robert:** ;)

 **Robert:** So are you with Mats??? Or

 **Marco:** im in his house now waiting for that idiot to hurry tf up he's 'fixing his hair' now we're so gonna be late

 **Robert:** Jerome should have told Mats the start time was at 5pm or something so Mats would get there on time

 **Marco:** jeri literally did tell him an earlier time it's just mats' magic power to physically be incapable of never being somewhere on time

 **Marco:** and im dragged down with him because he always wants me to wait for him

 **Robert:** Remember when he was late to his own birthday party 

 **Marco:** he said that was a power move tho

 **Robert:** Dear God I can't cope with him sometimes lmao

 **Robert:** Do you know if this man is going to be there

**Robert:**

**Marco:** almost 800% sure he is jeri's invited everyone from the NT

 **Robert:** Yikes

 **Robert:** Have fun keeping Mats on a leash Jerome's party is going to go down in flames

 **Marco:** not on my watch like i can't control that moron 

 **Marco:** mats likes to pretend he can cause chaos but he's really a huge crybaby who would mope for hours if someone criticised what he was wearing

 **Marco:**  i remember the time when benni told mats his turtleneck made him feel sick and mats refused to sit with the team for the rest of the evening 

 **Robert:** Jesus Christ

 **Robert:** He really cares about Höwedes' opinion that much huh

 **Marco:** lmaoooooo yeah and hes an overdramatic lil bitch

 **Robert:** What else is new

 **Robert:** Hey Marcinho

 **Marco:** robinho

 **Robert:**  Tell me to shut up if you want and I won't bring it up again

 **Marco:** no dont worry ask whatever you want 

 **Robert:** You know Jerome's party

 **Marco:** think i do yeah

 **Robert:** Is Mario going to be there?

 **Robert:** Marco?

 **Robert:** You there?

 **Marco:** sorry, lukasz just texted me something got distracted

 **Marco:** yeah he's going to be there

 **Robert:** You going to be okay?

 **Marco:** course i am

 **Robert:** You sure?

 **Marco:** yes

 **Marco:** finally mats is here that fuckin clown what was he even doing his hair looks exactly the same as it did before

 **Robert:** Don't tell him that lol

 **Marco:** ok we'll be making tracks now, call me tomorrow, yeah? have fun in poland

 **Robert:** Sure sure, have fun tonight, you know what to do ;)

 **Marco:** there'll be plenty of pretty pictures don't worry haha

 **Marco:** see ya ! x

 **Robert:** Bye x

Marco stowed his phone away in his pocket as Mats flourished his hands dramatically and took a stage bow for Marco. He was wearing a navy suit jacket over a black shirt (top button undone, as was legally required for the average professional footballer) and he was flexing a new gold wristwatch. 

"So how'd you think I look?" he said eagerly. Marco had a wealth of smart comments on the tip of his tongue, but thought it would be best just to indulge Mats, otherwise he'd be liable to go into a fit of self-consciousness.

"You look  _dashing,_ " Marco said genuinely. "But Jesus Christ, you bought that watch three weeks ago, were you really waiting til now to put it on for the first time?"

"Of course, it needed to make a grand entrance," Mats said, pleased Marco had noticed it (not that it would have been difficult to, given how specifically his wrist was placed against the blue of his jacket). "You look half decent yourself, though no great shakes compared to me."

"You know what you should do sometimes? Close your mouth. Otherwise a moth might fly in," Marco said dryly. "Jeri's fist might fly in it too if we're even more late than we are now. Didn't you use that fancy watch to check the goddamn time? We need to get going, now."

Mats looked at the _time_ on his watch presumably for the first time, and his eyes blew wide. "Holy shit, we are late, aren't we? But beauty like this takes a long time to perfect, Jeri will understand-"

"He'll understand because I'll be the one making some excuse for you, as per usual," Marco said exasperatedly. "Come on, big boy, let's move it. Lock up your house and then we'll hit the road."

"Speaking of the road-" Mats said, looking at Marco enquiringly.

"I'm the designated driver, don't worry, I'm not really feeling like alcohol tonight," Marco said with a shrug. Mats gave him a look that had vague traces of that emotion Marco hated so much-  _worry._ "It's fine, Matsy, really. You know about that diet I've been following, alcohol would throw me out of the cycle I've got going. Besides,  _someone_ would have to drop your ass back home."

"Not even going to take part in Drink and Despair, then?" Mats said, sounding slightly disappointed.

_Oh, hell no. Not when he's there._

"No, I've got enough despair already," Marco joked. Mats frowned at him, not appreciating the quip. "Oh, don't look at me like that. Es war ein Witz. And do you really think you should be despairing on Jeri's birthday?"

"Oh, yeah, force of habit. We decided we'll call it 'Drink and Joyfully Reminisce' today instead."

Marco laughed. "Cool. I don't want to  _sadly_ reminisce in the future about the time Jeri killed you for being so late, though, so hurry up and  _lock the house!_ And make sure all your lights are turned off!"

Mats rolled his eyes. "Should I make sure I haven't left any of my toys lying around as well? I'm an adult, I don't forget to turn off lights..."

"Then why are you edging towards the stairs with an uncertain look on your face?" Marco said wryly.

"Because I left... a thing upstairs..." Mats mumbled, and then he darted up the steps, leaving Marco rolling his eyes behind him. Indeed, when he reached the second floor, he saw that he had left the bathroom light and his bedroom light on. He flipped the switches, mumbling darkly about Marco's prescience, and was about to return downstairs when his phone buzzed in his pocket.

_Private chat between Robert Lewandowski and Mats Hummels_

**Robert:** Look out for Marco today 

 **Robert:** He said he'll be fine with Mario there but you know what he's like

Mats smiled sadly. Of course he knew.

 **Mats:** you got it

 **Mats:** don't worry robbi he'll be a-okay he'll have so much fun and we already devised a plan to keep him away from mario with the nt

 **Robert:** Good, don't be too harsh on poor Mario tho 

 **Mats:** no it'll be fine

 **Robert:** Speaking of being too harsh

 **Robert:** Are you going to cause trouble with Höwedes

 **Mats:** why else am i going to the party???

 **Robert:** Because Jerome is your friend??? And it's his birthday??? 

 **Mats:** he won't mind höwedes' constant goofy ass behaviour would be perfect entertainment for the guests

 **Mats:** no need for him to book anything

 **Robert:** You are the last person who should use the words 'goofy ass' for anything other than self-reflection

 **Mats:** i do a lot of self-reflection

 **Mats:** and i know that i am god and höwedes is disease created to punish human for their sins

 **Robert:** Who created that disease if you're God, eh? 

 **Mats:** my second-in-command, whom is marco, he deals with the shit i don't want to get my hands dirty with

 **Robert:** Just shut your ass up and behave yourself

 **Mats:** dont worry jeri will escape the day unscathed

 **Mats:** höwedes on the other hand...

 **Mats:** they'll be scraping his remains off of the walls

 **Mats:** he'll see me and fucking explode because he'll see how hot i am and realise there's no plausible way he can ever compete with me because i'm so much better than him

 **Robert:** Sounds like you're desperate to make a good impression

 **Mats:** sounds like youre a fucking stupid donkey

 **Mats:** nobody asked you for your opinion im not desperate

 **Mats:** the only thing i'm desperate for is not having to deal with höwedes' existence

 **Mats:** because it makes my life so much more difficult to deal with

 **Robert:** Thought you just said you were only going to the party to cause trouble with him

 **Mats:** because im doing a noble job to try and take him out

 **Mats:** shut up robert nobody likes you

 **Mats:** stop intrerogationing me

 **Robert:** You want to say that in English mate?

 **Mats:** no 

 **Mats:** go away

 **Robert:** I bet that was a nervous reaction

 **Robert:** I bet he just texted you

 **Mats:** well you'd be fucking wrong i just had a finger spasm because you kill my brain cells and my nerve functions

_Private chat between Benedikt Höwedes and Mats Hummels_

**Benni:** Guess what Honk, Jeri sent me the music he's going to play when you enter the hall

 **Mats:** england's national anthem?

 **Mats:** GOD SAVE OUR GRACIOUS QUEEN

 **Benni:** No, something more befitting of the quality of human being you are

 **Benni:** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zjedLeVGcfE

 **Benni:** I think it hits all the right beats for you and Resus' grand entrance, turtleneck x

 **Mats:** you know what theyll play when you enter the hall

 **Benni:** Enlighten me

 **Mats:** emergency sirens

 **Mats:** got to evacuate the public so they dont get killed by the ugly filthy monster that entered the building

 **Benni:** No, I know for real what Jeri's going to play, its number one on the tracklist, just for you and Reus

 **Mats:** what. 

 **Benni:** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=swhyEv1Xg3M

_You are blocked from sending messages to Mats Hummels._

_Private chat between Mats Hummels and Robert Lewandowski_

**Mats:** side note tho

 **Mats:** I FUCKING HATE HIM HE'S THE FUCKING WORST CAN HE LITERALLY STOP

 **Mats:** IM GOING TO POUR MINT SAUCE ON HIS HEAD AT THE PARTY

 **Mats:** HIS SIDE HASNT WON A BUNDESLIGA IN THIS CENTURY AND HE HAS THE AUDACITY

 **Robert:** Finger spasms are gonna be turning into a whole lot more eh

 **Mats:** STOP IT I'M TELLING JEROME YOU HAVE A FOOT FETISH

 **Robert:** HUMMELS WAIT NO STOP


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SERVUS LEUTE!
> 
> i promise this isnt gonna be a thing where i constantly switch between APOS and shambles. its just that after writing that literal fic-length chapter for APOS i was feeling exhausted so decided to switch to write a chap of shambles to chill out and go back in time a bit! i was also looking at loads of old photos so nostalgia hit me so hard have i ever mentioned i fucking adore jerome boateng and the older generation
> 
> yall this shit has been written with my writers block brain. i guarantee you its come out stale. so i decided not to include too much in it. honestly its so bad why do i even write

Anyone who wasn't close to Jerome Boateng would say that he was a very shy and quiet individual. He tended to be peaceful and hover at the periphery of everything, and when he spoke, he was soft-spoken and calm. His personality seemed to be the opposite of what his large stature suggested- although he bowled over attackers on the pitch, in real life he was very gentle.

Anyone who was close to Jerome Boateng would say the exact fucking opposite. To them, he was the most overdramatic, hysterical gay around. As soon as he was comfortable with somebody, he dived straight into the tea and was determined to crush people with enormous quantities of affection. Sami Khedira was currently experiencing this first hand, as Jerome had seized onto him and was dragging him around the club he had hired for his birthday, the moment he had stepped through the doors.

"You're here, Sam, you're here!" Jerome was singing joyfully- he was half-wrestling, half-hugging Sami as they jumped up and down together. "I'm so happy to see you, bro! You came all the way from Madrid! I just wanna- aaaarghhh!"

He did not seem to be able to articulate his happiness in words- so he gave Sami a crushing bear hug instead, laughing at the top of his voice. The Real Madrid midfielder had barely been able to utter a 'hello' before he had been attacked. 

"Jeri- I'm happy to see you too- but- I'm- tapping- out!" Sami wheezed, slapping the defender on the back. "You're choking me!" 

Jerome did not seem to hear him, he was so ecstatic. Eventually, Mario Götze had to step in to wrench Sami free. The Madrid man massaged his throat as he staggered backwards dramatically, though he was chuckling. 

"He's so excited," Mario told Sami, smiling apologetically. "He might also be a little drunk."

"A little? Jerome's no pussy, he's got to be absolutely hammered at this point. It is his birthday, after all," Sami laughed. "Happy twenty sixth, bro!"

"Thanks! And I'm not that hammered, I'm just happy to see you!" Jerome told Sami jubilantly. "Things wouldn't be the same without you here, Sam!"

Sami could tell Jerome meant it- the man was entirely earnest about his friendships. He looked around at the club- there were so many people here already, from Bayern, various Bundesliga clubs and the national team. Music was playing, and some people were dancing, some talking at the bar. In the centre of the room, Sami could see Philipp Lahm, Bayern and the national team's captain, trying to stop a very unfashionably dressed Thomas Müller from pouring champagne over Arjen Robben's head. Manuel Neuer was at the bar, serving drinks to an already extremely drunk Franck Ribery.  Bastian Schweinsteiger was spinning Javi Martinez around and singing  _very_ tunelessly whilst Erik Durm seemed to be squaring off with Matze Ginter.

His eyes broke away from the rabble and back to the beaming Jerome. The person he was looking for didn't seem to be here yet.

"I do rate myself more highly than all of these people," he said lightly. "I've come to brighten things up a little. How many more people are coming?"

"Mesut is on his way," Jerome said immediately. "He texted me saying that he, Lukas, Shkrodan, Serge and Per were going to be here in ten minutes-"

"Which means we'll see them in half an hour," Sami said wryly, but he smiled at the knowledge that his best friend would be here soon. For some reason, Mario giggled.

"Miro and Mario Gomez are coming together from Italy, and Benni texted me saying the Schalke lot are going to be late. As per usual. Something about Goretzka burning his hair." 

"Goretzka doing what?" Sami asked, confused. 

"Hey, don't ask me," Jerome said, shrugging. "You can interrogate him about it later. That Goretzka kid is a real idiot, it's bound to be a good story."

"Leon's sweet," Mario admonished Jerome. "He's just a little... overenthusiastic."

"That's one way of putting it. He pisses himself anytime he's in a twenty foot radius of Manu."

"Manu scares  _all_ the kids, though. He scares most of us adults, too, come to think of it."

"Are you counting yourself as an adult, Götze? You're, like, twelve."

"Ah, shit, here we go again, with people bullying me because I'm baby-faced. You're only  _four years_ older than me."

"Don't worry, kid!" Jerome said exuberantly, patting Mario's head, as the youthful forward wore a sullen expression. "The seniors  _do_ value you, even if you're barely a teenager! Don't feel insecure!"

"I'm  _not_ insecure and I'm not a teenager! I scored in the World Cup Final!"

"And I won Man Of The Match against Messi, doesn't stop me feeling that way sometimes- it's  _okay,_ Mario, you're young, you'll learn to get over it-"

Sami was not listening to this silly argument- he was perplexed, still trying to work out how Leon could have set his hair on fire. Eventually, he gave up on trying to think of a plausible explanaion as something else came to mind. He grinned.

"Hey, speaking of being  _barely teenagers,_  what about Hummels and Reus? Where are they? When they come, things will _really_ kick off."

For some reason, as he was patronisingly hugging Mario, Jerome winced, making a slight throat slashing gesture to indicate that Sami shouldn't have asked the question. Sami gave him a puzzled look, before his eyes settled on Mario and he inwardly cringed. _Oh, Jesus._

Mario's large cheeks had turned pink. He stepped away from Jerome, whose hands fell loosely to his side. 

"Uhm... I- I'm just gonna go and get a drink from Manu," he said hastily, backing away from them both, nearly tripping over his own feet. "Have fun, guys!"

"Wait, hold on, Mario-" Sami called, but Mario had already hurried away. 

"Now look what you've done," Jerome sighed, watching Mario's retreating back. "And we had gotten through almost the entire day without Marco being mentioned in his vicinity..."

"... My bad," Sami said awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. "I forgot..."

Jerome gave Sami a stern look. "That's easy for you, isn't it, you oblivious Madridiot. All of us have to deal with that baggage every day, Jesus." 

"So, do you think it's gonna be bad?" Sami asked in a hushed voice, as the two of them watched Mario trying to get a drink from Manu, who was juggling with beer bottles with Rafinha. "Marco being around here?"

"Not on my watch," Jerome said firmly, pointing his finger right into Sami's face to emphasise his point. "This party is going to be fun for everyone. We've got a plan to keep them away from each other, anyway. And Marco won't stir up drama with him in public."

"Yeah, true..."

"The real problem," Jerome said, with another long-suffering sigh. "Is the two reprobates. The holy duo.  _Mats and Benedikt."_

Sami made a noise that was halfway between a laugh and a groan. "Oh, God, you're right. Those two."

"Those two," Jerome agreed ominously. "They're too unpredictable for my heart to handle. I don't even know if Mats is still looking for revenge against Benni for the time Benni shaved off his eyebrow. They're terrifying, and I don't think they listened to any word of the warnings I gave them before the party. Like, I _told_ them they can't trash the joint with them wrestling or whatever, but did they listen to me?"

"Most likely not," Sami snorted. "Marco will help you out, though, and keep Mats in line a bit. Mes and I will stop him from fucking around too much too. But nobody can stop Benni, he's too scary. Especially not his teammates, they're scared shitless of him." 

"Even Manu can't scare Benni." Jerome heaved a third, pained sigh. Then a bright grin stole across his face and he grabbed Sami's hand, a sudden bounce in his step. Sami looked at him, startled. 

"Oh, what are we complaining about?" Jerome cried, spinning Sami around on the spot. "We're Germans! And they're Mats and Benni! And tonight's my birthday! It's time to get wild anyway! Let's go and dance, Sam!" 

Sami was not the type to dance but evidently he did not have much choice in the matter tonight. Jerome dragged him over to a congregation of players who were all pressed against each other and jumping around. They cheered upon seeing him, and Basti gave Sami a big kiss on the cheek.

"Luki's coming soon!" the other central midfielder yelled cheerfully at the Madrid man. 

"Good to hear!" Sami said, giving Jerome a slightly alarmed look. Jerome shrugged and grinned as Basti returned to dancing with Javi Martinez. "Hey, Jerome, by the way... I wanted to tell you."

"What?" Jerome asked jovially, picking up two glasses of champagne from the side and passing one to Sami. Sami took a long draught of the stuff before speaking.

"It's about Toni," he said. Jerome's face fell at once, and Sami hastened to reassure him. "Hey, no, don't look sad. I just wanted to say... He really does miss you, you know. So much. And he wanted to be here so badly. But he just... he needs time to adjust. Don't feel too sad that he isn't here." 

Jerome looked at the ground. "He could've taken at least one day off to come. You did." 

Sami sighed. "I know. But... things are hard for him at the moment. He's struggling, and you know how hard he finds it to open up about things. He closes off when he's having a bad time. He's a stubborn idiot who thinks he'll ruin your night if he comes here with his problems."

"Well, that's fucking stupid!" Jerome shot out, looking genuinely hurt. Sami wondered vaguely if he should have said anything at all. "He knows how much I care about him, how many times do I have to tell him that I'm here to help him before it gets into his thick head? Yeah, I was mad at him when this whole Madrid thing came along, but he's still my best friend, he doesn't have to hide from me!"

"Jeri, Jeri..." Sami said soothingly. "He's got Jessica. He's not alone. Just... enjoy your night, then worry about Toni tomorrow."

"You never take a break from worrying about people," Jerome said fiercely. "If you do, it means you don't care."

"I'm not saying you don't care," Sami said patiently. "That's the last thing I'd ever say about you. You care too fucking much, you overly empathetic monster. What I'm saying is, don't let this get in the way of you enjoying yourself. Toni wouldn't want that..."

Jerome scoffed, trying to push away Sami's comforting hug, which was a real sign that he was upset, as Jerome _loved_ hugging people.  Eventually he had to concede, as Sami was being too persistent. Sami squeezed him tightly, but Jerome's hands remained by his side- he was too petulant to return the hug.

"Tonight's about getting pretty pictures of you for Instagram so Lewandowski can see them, pulling Mats and Benni apart before they pull each other apart and celebrating your big day," Sami said gently, patting Jerome on the back. "You've been excited for this day for ages. Just enjoy it. You deserve it, big man." 

Jerome mumbled something indistinct as Sami released him. Sami saw that he was barely holding back a smile. 

"What's so funny?" Sami asked, grinning. Then he realised. "Oh, God, I know what it is. You stupid gay. You're smiling because I mentioned Lewandowski, aren't you?"

Jerome covered his face with his hands and jumped up and down like a literal schoolgirl. "He's so cute, he's so cute!"

"Jesus Christ, the fucking state," Sami said, rolling his eyes but laughing all the same. "I can't imagine how you'd survive if you played in the same club as him." 

"He wouldn't last a single minute," a voice spoke up behind them. "He's the worst gay of them all."

Sami and Jerome jumped and turned around. There was an immediate explosion of warmth in the pit of Sami's stomach and Jerome let out a yell of delight.

" _Mesut!_ "

The Arsenal midfielder grinned slyly and gave them a salute.  "Jeri. Sam." 

Before Jerome could rush at him and hit him with a flying clothesline of a hug, another figure burst through him and Sami, shoving past Mesut and racing towards the other person standing behind him.

"Luki!" Basti yelled, slamming into Lukas, who would have fallen over, if it wasn't for the fact that the solid wall known as Per was standing behind Lukas. "You're here!"

It seemed like nobody was going to be talking to those two for quite a while. Per stepped gingerly out of their way, looking exasperated, and smiled at Jerome.

"Hey, Jerome. Happy twenty sixth." 

"Yeah, happy twenty sixth, my man!" Mesut said with a grin. "And, uh, Lukas wishes you a happy twenty sixth too... He just can't say it right now..."

"Thanks, I'm so happy you're here!" Jerome said, dragging both him and Mesut together for a group hug. "Where's Shkrodan and Serge?"

Sami had to gently separate Mesut and Per from the hug so they could gain the oxygen to speak. 

"I- don't- know," Mesut spluttered. "Probably fucking around somewhere... Serge went looking for the Schalke kid, Leon..."

"The Schalke guys aren't here yet," Jerome told Mesut, who shrugged. "And neither are the Dortmund lot, thank fucking God. Looking for someone, Per?"

Per was peering around the club, his massive height allowing him a greater vantage point than others. He looked at Jerome.

"Yeah. Got any idea where Fips is?" he asked casually.

Jerome shrugged. "Last I saw, he was stopping Thomas from throwing olives at Arjen."

"I'm gonna go and look for him," Per announced, a grin on his face. "See you around, Jerome."

Jerome waved as Per vanished into the crowd, narrowly dodging Thiago Alacantra, who had been twirled outwards by Javi- the playmaker wasn't only a good dancer on the ball. Mesut watched him go before turning to Sami and grinning.

"Come here, you bastard," he said cheerily, pulling Sami downwards into a hug. Jerome grinned at them both. "Finish telling me everything you were saying over text about Marcelo, Iker and those Cristiano screenshots..."

"Shit, yeah, come and get a drink with me and I'll tell you all about it..."

Jerome patted them on the back as they wandered off in full gossip mode; he intended to go and mingle in the party. All around him he was hearing snatches of conversation about this and that, people were calling out his name and giving him jovial slaps upside the head. Occasionally he was dragged into group dances- he was forced into a particularly difficult routine with Javi and Thiago, who were surprisingly adept at Spanish tap-dancing. Once the two had released him, he staggered away, intending to make for the bar, when-

" _Jeroooome!_ "

Turning around, slightly wrong-footed by how many people had been trying to get his attention at once, Jerome came face to face with Leroy Sané, who was grinning at him whilst wearing a dark grey suit. Standing behind the boy was his permanently excited looking fellow teen Leon Goretzka (his brown curls shorter than usual), the national team's baby Julian Draxler and the national team's second Schalke menace, Benedikt Höwedes.

"Guys!" Jerome laughed, patting Leroy on the head before dragging them all into yet another group hug. "Good to see you! So you finally made it, hmm?"

"Yeah... sorry about that," Benni said dryly. "Things got a little too hot for Leon to handle, so we needed to give him some time to _cool down_..."

Leon went scarlet and Julian roared with laughter.  _"Benni!_ "

"No worries, kid, no worries," Jerome said cheerfully. "Just... when we say  _get lit,_ let's keep it as an idiom, yeah?"

Leon folded his arms crossly as Jerome cackled at his own joke. 

"You know what?" the boy said heatedly. "I don't have to take this  _disrespect._ I am not a joke, I am a  _man!"_

"You're a  _boy,_ " Benni reminded Leon. "A boy who isn't going to get drunk off his head tonight, by the way. You're not allowed to have spirits, Leon. I'm not dragging you home in a state. You too, Leroy."

Leon and Leroy both looked outraged.

"We're of age!" they bellowed in unison. "We're allowed to drink spirits, we're old enough, _you_ can't boss us around-!"

"Watch me," Benni said, his eyes flashing, so he suddenly looked very foreboding. "If you think I'm going to be carting you back to your homes with sick down your fronts like I'm some sort of nursemaid then you've got another thing coming!  _No spirits!_ "

"What about Julian?" Leon howled in protest, pointing accusingly at the sniggering winger. "Why is  _he_ allowed to have them?"

Benni gave Julian Draxler a disdainful look. "Even if Julian is just as much as a degenerate as you two, he's older, and can handle being drunk better."

"You touch my heart, Benni."

Leroy turned to Jerome, his big bro, who was bound to come to his defence. Jerome merely shrugged.

"Sorry, you two, but Benni's right. Just stick to beer," he said. "Manu won't let you have the strong stuff anyway.  _He's_ behind the bar."

Leroy still looked furious, but a very odd expression stole across Leon's face. Benni smirked as the boy went bright red and instantly whipped around on the spot. 

"Come on, Leroy," he said in a constricted voice. "Let's go and find Serge and play beer pong with him."

Leroy gave Leon a confused look, but before he could make any further objections Leon grabbed his hand and dragged him away.

"And behave yourselves!" Benni yelled after them. The two did not respond. 

Jerome snorted, turning to Benni. "I thought mentioning Manu would get the kid to listen. You're welcome, Benni." 

"Yeah, well, it was on the tip of my tongue to mention the big ugly idiot myself. And what are _you_ going to do?" Benni added, looking at Julian.

"I'm gonna go and find Matze and Erik," Julian said, already on the move. He waved at Benni and Jerome. "See ya!" 

"You don't do anything stupid either!" Benni warned him. Julian didn't seem to hear him as he hurried away. "God Almighty, those stupid kids."

"They're actually losing intelligence as the years go by. Goretzka has got to be one of the dumbest kids I've ever met," Jerome agreed. "Mind you, we're not  _that_ much better... We've got Basti and Lukas... And you and Mats..." 

"What was that?" 

Jerome gave a pronounced cough. "Nothing, nothing... Just saying, we're not exempt from being fucking dumbasses either."

"True," Benni sighed. " _Everyone_ on the team gives me grey hairs, not just the brats. If some cunt in this godforsaken squad can fuck something up, even if it's scoring an open goal penalty, then that cunt will do it. They will also pick the worst possible time to fuck it up, and will do it in the worst way possible, too. It's universal."

"The media always said we Germans were consistent."

"Oh, yeah, that's actually one of the few things Lüdenscheid-Nord players in particular have got going for them," Benni said, nodding sagely. "Take Hummels, for example. He's a perennial fuck up. He never falls short of expectations when it comes to being mediocre, idiotic, arrogant, pathetically self-obsessed and a fucking pussy. He always stays true to himself!"

 _You never fall short of expectations either, Benni, when it comes to bringing up Mats in any conversation ever,_ Jerome thought wryly. But he laughed anyway, because insults at Mats' expense were always funny to him.

At the exact moment these scathing words left Benni's lips, a bull-like roar rang through the club, heralding the arrival of said mediocre, idiotic, arrogant and pathetically self obsessed fucking pussy.

"Wie geht's, Fotzen?" a very familiar voice called out. Strolling through the crowd and into the club was one Mats Hummels, impeccably dressed and looking disgustingly self-satisfied as per usual.

Hummels, tall and elegant, with his neatly trimmed facial hair and smouldering brown eyes, was considered to be the most handsome figure on Dortmund's team. But Benni vehemently disagreed with this general consensus. To Benni, Mats was absolutely hideous, the figurehead for the ugliness his stupid team brought to Germany- his overly curly hair and goofy beard made him look like a fucking weirdo hipster. Even the way he walked was ugly- the asshole strutted everywhere, with his lackeys Marco and Robert trailing behind him, always looking amused at his arrogant drawling, as if he was funny or something. The only thing Benni found funny about Mats was his defending ability.

Marco was walking alongside Mats now, grinning around at everyone. Just the sight of the two Lüdenscheid-Nord players made bile rise in Benni's throat, he could not look at them for too long, otherwise he was liable to turn into stone. 

"God give me strength," he said in a low voice. "I'm not dealing with this right now." 

He turned away and quickly set off in the other direction, towards the bar. He only realised a second later that this was a mistake when he saw who was standing behind the bar.

"Hey, Benz..." Manu called out to the Schalke centre back, giving him a tentative smile. "How are you?"

Benni gave Manu a look of utmost disdain. The  _Bayern_ goalkeeper's grin faltered. 

"I'm great, thanks," Benni said in tones of mock politeness. "How's Bayern going for you? Winning titles? Enjoying the teeth-grinding challenge? Enjoying your _better reputation?_ "

Manu deflated. Benni scoffed at him and turned away again, walking firmly towards Jonas Hector, Köln's shy left-back, to start up a conversation. He could still see Hummels out of the corner of his eye.

Jerome roared with laughter as he watched Benni's frantic flight between the two men he hated most, knowing that for all Benni's wry talk and supposed composure he was just as harebrained and goofy as Mats. When he saw the Dortmund captain approaching him, he laughed even harder, seeing the centreback's eyes flickering around- he knew  _exactly_ who the fraud was looking for.

"My man!" Mats said, beating Jerome to the chase by hugging him first. "Happy birthday! Sorry we're late, Jeri, it was all Marco's fault, he was obsessing over his hair again- hey, what's so funny?"

"Oh- oh, hi, Mats!" Jerome said, wiping his eyes. "Höwedes- Höwedes just told a joke..."

"No, Jeri, Höwedes  _is_ a joke," Mats corrected him. But his eyes started travelling around the club again, bright with interest now he knew for sure that Benni was here. Jerome let out a sustained giggle.

Marco came up from behind him so he could give Jerome a hug as well. "Hi, Jeri, happy birthday! Sorry we're late, it was all Mats' fault, he was obsessing over his hair again."

"If both of you spent that much time obsessing over your hair, than why does it still look trash?" Jerome joked. Marco snorted but Mats' hands instantly jumped towards his curly hair. "Jesus Christ, Hummels, I was joking, don't get all self-conscious again."

Mats made a haughty noise and returned his hands to his sides, though not before he had compulsively smoothed it down again. Before he could open his mouth to make a retort, Jerome elbowed him. When Mats gave him an indignant look, Jerome raised his eyebrows pointedly in the direction of Marco.

The Dortmund forward was imitating Mats by staring around the club, but he didn't have a mischievous glint in his eyes. On the contrary, he looked nervous. Mats glanced at him, and acted at once. 

"Drinks!" he said loudly. "Come on, Marcinho, let's go and get drinks- yeah, yeah, I know you're not getting hammered today, but you can have at least one, loosen up a little- look, Manu's serving! Let's go!"

He held out a hand to Marco. Marco looked confused but took it, letting Mats lead him over to the bar. He waved for Jerome to follow them. 

Jerome trailed after them, anxiously glancing around for signs of Mario himself. He could only hope that hopeless kid was being distracted somewhere else...

***

"Fips, you look really beautiful tonight, did you know that?" Leon Goretzka told Philipp Lahm brightly. "Have you done something with your  _hair?_ "

Fips gave the beaming boy a disgruntled look. "Yes, I have, actually, I'm so glad you noticed it. I've stopped pulling it out." 

"You  _pulled it out?_ " Leon said, his tone somewhat shocked, and it didn't sound like a reciprocation of Fips' sarcasm, either. Per Mertestacker had to bury his laughter in a glass of wine and Mario Götze wondered if Jerome had been right all along about this kid.

"Leon, why are we talking to the old men?" Leroy said crossly from behind Leon. "I thought we were going to find Serge and play beer pong with him?" 

"We are, Leroy, I just wanted to chat a bit to my favourite German right-back," Leon said, grinning toothily at Fips, who worked hard to hide the fact that this compliment had flattered him somewhat. 

"No you're not, you just want to see Man-"

" _Shut up Leroy nobody asked for your opinion!_ " Leon squawked in one breath, before fixing a smile back onto his face. He puffed his chest up in a bid to look taller and more grown up, and seemed to be searching for a topic of conversation that would make him seem that way- all while his eyes swept around the bar area. "So, Fips... What do you know about  _wine?_ "

"I know that nobody does it better than you, my dear boy," Fips told the twinkling-eyed teen. Ever since they had first met each other, when Leon had been included in the preliminary 30-man squad for the World Cup, the boy had become strangely attached to Fips, and Fips couldn't help but feel an almost parental urge for him in turn- rather fitting, of course, because Leon tended to behave like a child who had lost his parents most of the time. That parental urge didn't stop Fips' primal instinct for roasting him, though.

"I'm more of a Jägerbomb person, myself, actually," Leon said, the joke sailing over his head and probably hitting someone in the face, somewhere.

"Of course you are," Fips sighed. Mario let out a high-pitched giggle and had to bury his head into Per's chest.

Leroy gave Leon's hand an impatient tug. "Come  _on,_ Leon, I'm not hanging around here all day... I think I see Benni nearby, he's gonna get into an embarrassing fight again, I know it..."

"Alright, alright!" Leon said, looking slightly disappointed. "We're gonna go and gather the gang and get wasted- don't tell Benni- see ya, Fips!" 

"Drink within reason." 

The two boys ran away. Fips watched them go and sighed deeply again, reaching for his drink, which he had left on the bar counter. Per reached the drink before him and held it up high, over his head. 

Mario, who was still hiding his face in Per's chest, looked at Per's outstretched arm and Fips' expression with his mouth hanging wide. Per pointedly stared down at Fips, daring the captain to ruin his own dignity by jumping for the drink.

"You're  _brave..._ " Mario said under his breath. 

"He's  _stupid,_ " Fips snarled. "Mertestacker, if you don't give me back my drink..."

"Hey, Manu!" a voice rang out nearby, breaking through the heart-pounding tension of this scene. "Manu! Ugh, he's gone in the back room. Mats- hey, wait, where the hell did you go- why are you standing so far away? Are you seriously hiding from Manu? Get your ass over here, don't tell me you've lost all of that confidence now- Manuuu! Oh, there you are- you look great today, how are you? Could we get three beers, please?" 

Mario stiffened. Per and Fips exchanged looks.

"Oh, look!" Per said quickly and wildly transparently. "Is that Mesut and Sami over there yes it is let's say hi to them and make fun of them come on Mario I can't do it without you!"

"Yes, let's go," Fips said, equally as hastily. He grabbed Mario's shoulders and ushered the man in the direction of Mesut and Sami, who were in earnest discussion and oblivious to the fact they were about to be ambushed.

Mario said nothing, letting himself get pushed along. Fips was horrified to see that his eyes had gone suddenly bright.  _Damn it, Marco... Of all the times you could've sprung up on us unannounced..._

Marco was completely unaware of what had just happened, he smiled at Manu as he, Mats and Jerome sat down on a few stools. Manu grinned at them and set down some bottles. 

"Thanks! How come you're on bar duty, by the way?" Marco asked, opening Mats' bottle for him, because the centreback was peering distractedly around the club again instead of focusing.

"I lost a bet to the birthday boy," Manu said, rolling his eyes. "Saved him some euros on a bartender too..." 

"That's why you should never underestimate how important I am to your clean sheets again," Jerome said airily. Then he flinched as he saw Manu's flashing eyes. "It's my birthday, give me a pass, Manu!"

Manu looked highly foreboding for a moment, before his face relaxed and he grinned. "Just this once, Boateng. Just this once." 

Jerome looked most relieved, Marco laughed and Mats leaned in to remind Manu that he would  _never_ suggest that the man's clean sheets were because of anything other than his own prodigious skill.

Standing several feet away, masked by the dancing people, was someone who would gladly tell Manu his clean sheets were fraudulent. Benni was talking to Jonas Hector, or at least trying to- he kept on losing track of the conversation as he heard Mats Hummels' stupid voice and leaving the poor man floundering.

"It won't be long until you're in the National Team," Benni said aggressively, shaking a bottle of beer unneccessarily and vigorously before handing it to Jonas. "You're doing interesting things for Köln."

"Oh- uhm-thank- thank you, thank you very much!" Jonas said, taking the beer bottle from Benni and looking flustered. "That's really n-nice of you, you're great yourself, um, I watched you during the World Cup, and you were really effective in that left-back role, even if it wasn't your natural position... Actually, I always thought of asking you about-"

"Yeah, you're moving up the ranks quickly, Hector," Benni said absently. Jonas bit his lip and turned his attention to opening the bottle, knowing that his fellow defender wasn't actually listening to him. "If only you were a centre-back, though, you'd be able to replace that tumour we have as a centre-half- not our esteemed host, or Per, but the  _other one-_ you know the one, cocky bastard who thinks he's chiselled when really he's-"

Jonas wrenched the cap off the bottle just as Benni was about to finish his sentence. Beer sprayed out in all directions, landing on the front of his and Benni's suits. 

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Jonas said frantically, trying to control the flow and turning it away from Benni, who had jumped backwards.

"No worries- sorry, that was my bad, I think I shook that one-" Benni said, trying to brush the beer off his suit. "Oh, damn it..."

"I'm _really_ sorry, Benni, I'll- I'll go and get a towel for you-" Jonas stuttered, stumbling backwards with the beer bottle clutched in his hand. He turned around and hurried through the crowd. "I'm so sorry- excuse me-"

"No, wait, Jonas, it's no problem, I can ge-" Benni called after him, but Jonas didn't hear him. Sighing, Benni picked gingerly at his sodden shirt and swore under his breath. 

"Did you wet yourself, Höwedes? Don't tell me you're _that_ scared for Revierderby."

Benni froze in his tracks, his jaw hanging open, unable to believe he had let his guard slip and hadn't noticed the man's arrival. He quickly changed his expression of surprise into an angry grimace as he turned around to glare at his unwelcome companion.

The simplest explanation for why Mats Hummels and Benedikt Höwedes despised each other so much was the fact that they were both captains of two of the biggest rivals in German football- FC Schalke 04 and Borussia Dortmund. Revierderby was an occasion where base human decency ceased to exist- it was pure, boiling hatred, it was  _rage,_ it was a time where football wasn't a game, but a war. Mats Hummels and Benedikt Höwedes were the figureheads of their respective teams, the ones who drove their men to attack the opposition with everything they had- winning Revierderby was more often than not more important than winning the league. 

The two of them had fought on the pitch more times than either of them could count- even if they were national teammates, there was no getting around the base predjudice they had inherited from their clubs. For Mats, riling up the Schalke captain was sometimes more satisfying than scoring against his club. For Benni, watching the Dortmund captain's face fall when a ball got past him was sweeter than the most sugar-laden pastry. Their rivalry had become a thing of its own over the years, with both of them finding more and more reasons to hate each other the more time they spent in each other's presence. There was Revierderby, and then there was Mats versus Benni. Sometimes it was hard to tell which enmity was more vicious.

Many of their teammates, both for club and country, had their own theories as to why Mats and Benni had become so particularly averse to each other. They didn't dare voice their opinions out loud, though. At least, not in front of Benni. 

Benni's jaw was twitching, but he managed a sneer of derision.

"Scared for Revierderby?" he said evenly, stepping closer to Mats, who had somehow slipped away from Jerome, Marco and Manu unnoticed. "I'd be scared if you were aiming one of your famous headers off-target, Hummels, your aim is so pathetic it'd probably go in. But other than that, I'm not too bothered, no." 

Mats smiled, even as a vein pulsed in his temple. "Ah, yes, that biting sense of humour so common to you Herne-West scumbags. Your team does stand for shithousing into the upper standings of the Bundesliga, so I'm not surprised to see you have no good grace as always."

"What do  _you_ stand for, then, Hummels? A buffet?"  Benni enquired, mockingly curious. 

Mats' smirk faded at once. He scowled at Benni. Fat jokes, even though Mats was in perfectly good shape, always seemed to hit the man the hardest. It was  _too_ easy, sometimes...

"You'll be doing more than wetting yourself when I face you in Revierderby, Höwedes," he growled, cracking his knuckles in what was presumably meant to be a threatening gesture. "You'll wish you left with your precious ex-boyfriend when I'm done with you..." 

"No, I'm quite happy where I am, really," Benni said gently. "I like to see your face crumple like a Chips-Paket in a fat kid's fist up _close_ when your team falls short of expectations yet again..."

"You're talking about expectations, and you play for Herne-West? That's like a HSV fan giving another club tips for improving their management."

"Looks like your management could use a few of those tips, really, so you don't have to borrow any more cash from Bayern again to keep your Bundesliga license-"

A timid cough sounded behind the two of them. Mats jerked his head around dramatically. 

"E-Excuse me, sorry to interrupt." There was Jonas Hector again, looking slightly intimidated by the glowering Mats, holding a towel in his hand. "I- I got you a towel, Benni, I'm really sorry again for spilling that beer on you-"

"That's okay," Benni said with a smile that was a lot kinder than the expression he had had on his face just ten seconds ago. "It was an accident, shit happens."

Mats snorted. "Yeah, just look at any of Herne-West's games. Don't apologise for spilling beer on him, Hector, be proud."

Jonas didn't really seem to know how to respond, so he compromised by saying absolutely nothing and hurrying forwards to hand Benni his towel. Unfortunately, in his flustered state, he tripped up and nearly fell into Mats. 

"Oh, excuse me, sorry!" he said nervously. "Sorry, Herr Hummels..."

Benni almost choked. "Whoa, whoa, whoa!  _Herr_ _Hummels?_ "

Even Mats looked perturbed. "Hector, I know I ooze a captain-like authority and have a commanding, elegant presence, but you really don't need to call me  _Herr._ Mats will do..." 

"Oh, sorry, I just thought that, seeing as I've never actually talked to you before..." Jonas said sheepishly. "It would be rude to call you by your first name...?" 

"Does he look like someone who deserves respect?" Benni demanded, actually offended at Jonas being polite to Mats. "Would you call a hippo at a zoo  _Herr Nilpferd,_ Hector? No! So why would you call  _him_ that?" 

Mats closed his eyes. "Alright, Höwedes, that's it,  _square up-_ "

Jonas looked alarmed as Mats raised his fists. "Hold on, guys-"

"Come on, Hummels, try and get a touch on me if you can't get it on the ball-" Benni taunted, laughing challengingly, edging forwards-

"Guys, wait, calm down!"

"Oh, my God,  _seriously?_ " an exasperated voice called behind them, just as Jonas stood quickly in front of Mats, nearly receiving a punch in the face from the centreback, who was _so_ ready for a fight. "It's not even been  _ten minutes_ since you arrived, and you've  _already_ started this up again?"

Mats paused with his fist raised over Jonas, whose eyes were as wide and round as a Euro. Jerome was standing in front of them with his hands on his hips- and an embarrassed looking Marco was standing behind him.

"You said you would keep a leash on this one," Jerome scolded Marco. "And it took you two minutes to lose him!"

"My bad, he slipped away from me!" Marco said sheepishly, racing forward to catch Mats' elbow and forcing him to lower his arm. "Mats, Jesus Christ, do you have  _no_ self-control?"

"Don't you make a smart comment!" Jerome said threateningly to Benni, who had smirked and opened his mouth to respond to this. Benni turned away and shrugged as Jerome shook his head apologetically at Jonas. "Jonas, sweetheart, I'm really sorry you had to deal with these idiots."

Marco had never seen a more bewildered looking person than Jonas in his life. The left-back, slightly shell-shocked, just shook his head and murmured something inaudibly.

"Come on, Mats, you moron," Marco said finally, tugging at Mats' arm. "Let's go and dance.  _Leave_ him, idiot, I don't care what he said to you, you were probably just as annoying..."

Mats glared ferociously at Benni as he was dragged away. Benni smiled blithely back, and Jerome put his head in his hands.

"Yeah, you'd better run, Höwedes!" Mats yelled. "I'll be back for you, mark my words! And when I'm done with you, you won't have a limb you can put out onto the field!"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> obviously to be continued to be continued. 
> 
> i just want to say a massive r.i.p to jose antonio reyes... shocking, saddening news. he was way too young, and such a shit way to go... i hope his family and friends find peace. i remember him for sevilla when they won the europa league, scored some bangers too, wow this is just really sad.

**Author's Note:**

> if you want to chat, my tumblr name is moroslavklose. feel free to send me a message, whether it be one calling me out on my bullshit (i'll happily indulge in conversation insulting myself) or to load me up awith praise (LOL what praise), or to talk to me about the bundesliga, or football in general, or anything really!! happy to make new friends!!
> 
> yes i've written young leon to be similar to kai.


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